


the silence between

by gigglesandfreckles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (but nothing wild), Because That's What The Disaster Lineage Does Best, Blood and Injury, Crash Landing, Grand Master & Grand Padawan Bonding (Star Wars), Whump, lineage feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglesandfreckles/pseuds/gigglesandfreckles
Summary: Ahsoka gets temporarily assigned to join the 212th at the front, leading to an adventure and some clumsy conversations with her new grand master.[or: Soka is awkward and scared of Obi-Wan but they bond over quality literature and their common idiot Skywalker]
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 14
Kudos: 265





	the silence between

**Author's Note:**

> my brain: write a longform AU where Ahsoka is Obi's padawan.  
> me: NO.  
> my brain: do it.  
> me: take this instead? *offers fic*  
> my brain: sure! but you're still going to write a longform AU where Ahsoka is Obi's padawan. :-)
> 
> (this was a prompt request that just got ridiculously out of hand)

She stood alone in front of the Council for the first time, trying to keep her head held high and not tug at her skirt in the way Master Skywalker told her was irritating and childish. Like _he_ didn’t pull on his sleeves every time a Council member berated him.

“I enjoy working in the Archives with Master Nu,” Ahsoka insisted. “Another rotation there would–”

“Tano,” Mace cut her off, his lips twitching at the edges in a way that suggested he didn’t quite believe her. “Master Nu does not need your help as much as the 212th does.”

“But what about Master Skywalker! He’ll be needing company during his recovery. I–I should be there for him.”

“Your Master has recovered from a great deal worse without a Padawan at his beck and call,” Plo Koon said.

“Though he _did_ have an overly concerned Master,” Luminara added with a small giggle.

Obi-Wan–who she’d been trying not to look at–uncrossed his legs and shifted in his seat. A light round of chuckles echoed through the chamber room as his cheeks reddened.

Ahsoka felt her temper flare. They were here to decide her fate and they were just– _laughing._

“I have an exam coming up. Extra time at the Temple would be beneficial for–”

“Padawan Tano,” Master Yoda spoke for the first time, regarding her with an expression too curious to make her feel comfortable. “Up for argument, this is not. To the front, with Master Kenobi, you will go. Until Skywalker is recovered.”

Her resolve to be mature and handle this like a knight crumbled. “But that could be _weeks_ –”

“Tano.” Mace’s sharp voice echoed through the room. “You are dismissed.”

Ahsoka took a breath. “Thank you, Masters.” She gave the most respectful nod she could muster, and turned on her heels, feeling heat on her back as they watched her leave.

How did Anakin do that _all the time?_

The doors didn’t click shut behind her like they should have. Like someone had caught it with their hand.

“Ahsoka?”

She steeled herself. “Master Kenobi,” she said, pulling a smile.

Obi-Wan hovered a few metres away. His hands pulling at his sleeves. Familiar. “I know that the situation isn’t...ideal. But with things–being what they are…” A war. “This seemed the most logical solution.”

“I get it.” Ahsoka nodded tightly.

Something flickered across his face. “I hope you’re not too upset.”

“I’m not,” she said. Lied.

“Is it–” He hesitated. “I apologise if this is uncomfortable, but–I can’t help but wonder. Do you have issue with...me? I know we haven’t spend very much time together and–”

“No,” she said. “That’s not it.”

Anakin had told her that his Master worried more than he should. Taking in the wrinkle between the older Jedi’s brows, she wondered if that had been an understatement.

“I should go pack.”

Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to say more, but he nodded politely as she turned back down the hall.

…

They should be rendezvousing with the 212th in the Mygeeto system in two standard days time. The battle there had been raging for weeks with no significant progress. Obi-Wan had been sent back to Coruscant to take care of Council business for a couple of days (but Ahsoka suspected it also had something to do with her own Master’s recent injury). Now, he and Ahsoka were regrouping with the company for what would hopefully be a swift end.

She’d avoided the cockpit altogether for the first three hours, but she was running out of things to keep her busy.

Master Kenobi was–intimidating. Her master’s master. He spoke with crisp quickness that she’d never managed to learn, her own tongue becoming heavy and clumsy when it came to discussing matters of importance. The Great Negotiator, devoted to the cause of the Republic and the most duty-bound Master of the Order. 

Anakin said he was a dork who colour-coordinated his sock drawer. 

But she hadn’t seen anything to suggest someone so approachable. It wasn’t that he was cruel or cold, because he was distinctly _not_. He was just _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ , and she wasn’t exactly sure what her place was in his life.

Footsteps echoed down the short hall and under the door of the compartment she’d stowed away in with her holo-pad.

“Ahsoka?”

She took a breath and slid the door open. “Hi.”

Obi-Wan visibly jumped. “Oh. You’re...in here.”

“I’m in here,” she agreed, her head bobbing up and down awkwardly.

“You can–” His eyes scanned the compartment quickly. “You can join me in the cockpit, if you like. I–I’m rather used to the company.” He offered what she expected to be his attempt at a welcoming smile. When she didn’t respond to that, he elaborated. “Because of...Anakin…” His voice trailed off.

She couldn’t bring herself to muster any sort of expression beyond vacancy.

“Right,” he nodded quickly. “Well, if you finish your…”

“Reading,” she supplied.

“Reading?” His voice lightened a bit and something sparkled behind his eyes for the briefest of moments, before being replaced by controlled grey again. “Yes, well, if you finish reading and should desire company, you...you know where to find me.”

…

She sat in the dark compartment for ten more minutes before boredom and compassion began to tag-team, waging war on her determination. She padded down the short hall and steadied herself before sliding open the door to the cockpit. 

A flurry of limbs dropped from the control board as Obi-Wan righted himself and spun around to look at her. Funny. Anakin always sat with his feet on the dash, too.

“Er, hello,” he greeted, adjusting his tunic and running a quick hand through his hair. “I was just, uh–”

“Sleeping.”

“No!” he said quickly, but then– “Well, yes.” A sheepish smile, that didn’t only serve to soften his eyes, but his countenance, reputation, everything about him. “Arfour is at the helm.”

“Arfour,” she repeated, still not quite able to pull herself into the room. “Any relation to Artoo?”

“A droid’s a droid, so I suppose–” He blinked and looked up at her. “That was a joke, wasn’t it?”

She grinned, moving toward the passenger seat. “Master Skywalker wouldn’t like the way you talk about droids.”

“Master Skywalker is a bit cross-wired himself,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Might be part-droid.”

She huffed a laugh and let herself relax into the seat. It wasn’t until she felt the weight of the silence bearing down upon her that she remembered it had been her turn to talk. 

“Have you heard from him?” she asked.

The energy of the room shifted. “No. He’s–he’s still unconscious, according to the healers, but–” He straightened. “But Master Che is hopeful. He’ll be okay.”

She watched him curiously. Obi-Wan and Anakin weren’t like any master and padawan she’d ever met before. “Do you ever get tired of worrying about him?”

“No,” he said simply. “Masters always worry about their padawans.”

 _Not like you do_.

“He’s not your padawan anymore,” she pointed out.

He offered her the first genuine smile she’d seen on him. “Well, that hardly changes anything, does it?”

Ahsoka shrugged. She was new to this padawan thing; less than a month in fact. What did she know?

The panel lights in front of her flickered, various buttons and switches blinking as Arfour remotely controlled the ship’s navigation. She didn’t know why she’d come in here. Now, she was trapped. It would be rude to walk out at this point, but the alternative–sitting in two more days of silence with her grand master–seemed exponentially worse.

“You said you were reading earlier,” he said, suddenly. Cleared his throat. “Studying for a class?”

“Oh,” she subconsciously clutched her holopad to her chest. “No, I, uh–not for a class, no. Just for...recreation.”

His chair turned more fully towards her. “For fun?”

The Force sparked around him.

“Yes,” she admitted.

He leaned forward. “What are you reading?”

“Well,” she flicked the holo-pad back on, mostly for something to look at aside from his intensely imploring gaze, “poetry mostly. Some short stories. Nothing important.”

She worked to keep her voice even. Memories of one too many initiates telling her to get her head out of her holo-pad played on a loop in the back of her mind. The last thing she needed was for _Master Kenobi_ to accuse her of bookishness over common sense.

“Ahsoka, that’s _wonderful,_ ” he said in a voice that forced her to meet his gaze. He was practically _beaming_. “Will you tell me about it?”

She frowned in confusion. “Will I…”

“It doesn’t matter what,” he said, waving a hand nonchalantly in front of him. “Whatever you like. My life has been dismally void of quality literature lately. Too many mission reports.”

“You like to read?” she asked timidly, her heart thumping against her chest. 

“ _Obnoxiously_ so.”

She felt her cheeks squish into her eyes as she smiled at him.

...

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Not when Master Obi-Wan had _so many more_ stories to tell her about Anakin’s first years as a Padawan. Stories involving stolen ships and accidental haircuts and the truth that it was in fact _Anakin_ who had a colour-coordinated sock drawer. (Though Ahsoka wasn’t sure he hadn’t learned it from _his_ master.)

Red lights and blaring alarms ripped her from sleep.

“Master?”

“You’re awake. Good.” He didn’t spare her a glance, his arms straddling the control board, as he pushed on various blinking buttons. “I’m afraid I’m a bit short on arms. A downfall of being human.”

“And Togruta,” she pointed out, already jumping from her seat and navigating the control board. “So...any explanation as to why we’re in complete peril right now?”

“Flip the pitch meter there,” he nodded toward a button out of his reach. “It appears our droid friend got a bit over-confident.”

“You’re blaming this on a _droid?_ ” Ahsoka asked, trying to keep her voice as leveled as Obi-Wan’s. How was he _doing that?_

“The alternative explanation is that I fell asleep shortly after you did and completely missed the manual jump,” he supplied, grunting as a button of extreme importance got jammed. “So, yes, I choose to blame the droid, if that’s all right with you?”

“Any plan to get us out of this mess?!”

He looked at her, finally, and she’d recognise that glint anywhere. “How are you with emergency landings?”

“Do you mean _crash landings?_ ” She grinned. “I’m Anakin Skywalker’s padawan.”

His own smile grew. “Excellent. I’ll navigate, you hold us steady. And put your seatbelt on.”

Well, _that_ wasn’t something her master had ever worried about telling her.

…

“That was fun,” she groaned. Because somehow in the midst of falling to their potential deaths, Obi-Wan’s sardonic optimism had kept her focused, afloat, and less panicked than she should have been, considering the _flaming back half of their ship_ and _quickly increasing velocity._

She pulled at her seat belt. Stuck. That was okay, because she’d always been flexible. A few tricky manoeuvres and she was out, climbing over the splintered control board, chunks of debris and–an empty chair?

_No._

“Master Kenobi?” she called, her forced sarcasm shattering. “ _Master!_ ”

She hadn’t lost consciousness, but it had been so dark, so loud, so chaotic. When they actually made impact, she’d lost her grip on reality entirely–and couldn’t recall seeing him eject from his seat.

Then, she saw it. A lump of oatmeal-coloured cloth in the snow.

“Master!” she cried in relief, running to him. Her legs, ribs, head _hurt_.

He didn’t respond, in word or movement.

Ahsoka rolled him over. Her hand immediately went to her mouth. 

Blood–too much of it. Pooling beneath him. Hands shaking, she pushed the fabric of his robe aside to find the source. A piece of metal shrapnel as long as her arm was sticking straight out of his shoulder. 

She left him on his back, not wanting to disrupt or lodge the debris any further. With strength she didn’t know she had, she ripped a strip of his robe off, bunching it and applying pressure to the wound where she could reach it. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the metal protruding from his flesh.

“‘Soka?” he mumbled, as she applied pressure to the wound.

“I’m here,” she breathed. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“You–” He made to move his arm, but she quickly held it down to the ground.

“You’re hurt, Master Kenobi. Don’t move.”

“You–okay?” he managed. She peeked a glance at his face–scrunched in pain, yet his Force signature revealed nothing but _concern_.

“I’m fine, Master. But you–you’re... _not_. I...you need a healer.”

“Have...you.” He hissed through a wave of pain. “S’enough.”

“ _No_ , Master. _Not enough_. I–I don’t know how to...you have a piece of metal coming out of your arm.”

And then–he _smiled_. “Thank you for...for keeping up...my spirits.”

“Master!” she cried in horror. How was he _joking?_ It had been one thing while they were crashing. A way to handle the crisis and funnel their efforts into survival, but this–

He’d lost _a lot_ of blood.

“How did you–how are you...the chair?” She barely managed to string her words together.

“Seatbelt,” he grimaced. “Told you...wear one.”

“ _I did!_ ”

“I–” Another hiss of pain. “Forgot.”

“ _You–_ ” She scoffed. Suddenly the similarities between this mad man and her master weren’t confined to colour-coordinated sock drawers. “We have to get help.”

“I– _Ahsoka_.” His eyes focused on her for a moment, pain and determination swirling in them. “I need–listen.” He shifted again. She clamped her hands on his arms, holding him still. “You–to remove...metal.”

“What?”

He attempted to gesture weakly toward the protruding medal still impaling his shoulder.

“ _What?!_ ” she repeated, this time with more virosity. “No way! _Absolutely not!_ I can’t–” She scoffed again. “How can you even...how can you _ask that?_ ”

“Bleeding...lot, little one.” He slurred. “Need to pack...wound, but–can’t. Metal.”

“Metal,” she repeated hollowly. 

It wasn’t possible. She’d sat through lessons on basic battlefield first aid, but this– _no._ Lesson one of _impalement_ was to wait for a _medical professional_ , not a fourteen-year-old girl who hadn’t ever even applied a _bandage_ to another being.

“You...know how...pack?”

“Yes,” she swallowed, bile rising in her throat. “But Master–”

“Have to,” he grunted. “Blood. Woozy...not–”

“Okay.” She wiped a hand across her face. “Okay. Tell me...tell me–what to do.”

He guided her through the motions, coaching her through slurred speech and restrained cries as she slowly and carefully wriggled his shoulder free of the debris. She wasn’t trained for this and Kix would absolutely be letting loose on her next time she saw him, but–no major arteries or muscles seemed to be impacted.

She packed the wound and pulled her grand master into her lap, pressing against the nauseating hole in his shoulder. Frowning as the khaki fabric turned red within seconds.

“I–I need more...your robe,” she managed.

He shrugged out of it with his one good shoulder and watched as she ripped it into pieces.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re...you’re going to be cold now. But I–I need to–”

“S’okay, little one,” he said, smiling up at her. 

They sat for several minutes in silence and Ahsoka noticed that, this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Which didn’t make sense, because he was halfway in her lap and her hands were covered in his blood and if there was anytime to feel uncomfortable, _this was it_. But all she felt was–worry.

“Time to...up.”

“What?” she asked, because, if anything, he’d gotten _less coherent_ since having the shrapnel pulled from him.

“Up,” he repeated. “ _Up!_ ” A bit incessant.

She laughed darkly. “You can’t–you can’t be serious. Master Kenobi, you just–”

He began to push off the ground.

“No, _stop,_ what are you _doing?_ ” she cried, pulling him tight to her. Trapping him. “You have an open wound. A _large one_. You’re not...you can’t go _up_.”

He looked annoyed by her words, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was lecturing him.

She was running out of clean fabric.

“‘Soka,” he said. “We–we need to...fix transmitter. Call for...help. Council.”

“ _I_ can do that!”

“My– _my_ clearance codes.”

She looked incredulously at him. “Just tell them to me.”

His eyes shifted away from her and he looked a bit sheepish again. “Can’t...Council.”

“You’re _kidding me_ , right? You’re seriously...Master! You’re like _dying_.” He snorted in a way she guessed was supposed to imply he’d been a lot closer to death before. She didn’t doubt it. “Who cares about protocol! Just–give me the code.”

He sunk further into her lap and closed his eyes. “ _Can’t._ ”

Ahsoka wanted to argue. To push and prod because this was _ridiculous_. But...she was still the padawan here.

“Okay,” she sighed in resignation. “But _listen_. We walk back to the ship. You _let me help you_. Then, you sit while I fix the transmitter. Heckle me if it makes you feel better. _Then_ , you can come put in your code.” She shot him a firm look. “Deal?”

He smiled weakly. “Deal.”

…

They were closer to Mygeeto than Coruscant, so the Council directed a transport from the 212th to meet them. The battle hadn’t lessened in its intensity, so Obi-Wan had argued against it, telling the Council they could wait for a transport from Coruscant. Luckily, Ahsoka was on the holo-call, too, and they chose to listen to her assertion of the situation.

The door to the small room she had been placed in slid open.

“I have good news.”

“Master Kenobi!” She stood up from the bed in a hurry, the blankets falling from her shoulders. “You’re okay!”

“Yes...why shouldn’t I be?” he asked innocently, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

She rolled her eyes. “Master…”

“24 stitches,” he grimaced, flexing his shoulder. “Not my personal record, but not one I’m anxious to repeat. The surgical droid was a bit rough.”

“Still blaming droids.”

Obi-Wan motioned for her to sit back down and took the spot next to her, the mattress creaking under their combined weight. He lifted the discarded blanket and settled it back on her bare shoulders. His hand didn’t immediately fall back to his side.

“It seems our adventure has been cut short, Padawan.”

“Probably for the best,” she chuckled.

“They’re going to drop us back on Coruscant for R&R...then you might end up getting that extra Archives assignment after all.”

His hand burned through the blanket. 

And there was that silence again, settling on the bed between them. It wasn’t the same as it was before. No, somehow, through this ordeal–she’d come out on the other side with a new appreciation for Obi-Wan Kenobi and his steady strength.

But the guilt–the tugging sensation in her gut that reminded her she _shouldn’t be here_ wouldn’t leave her alone. It pulled and pulled until the words came flying out of their own accord.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me. I know that if you’d–if you’d been with someone else...someone more–experienced…” She trailed off, her last words stumbling and falling into the chasm between the others as they passed.

“Ahsoka–”

“I know...I know that you just got rid of one padawan and–I know you didn’t ask for another so soon,” she said to the floor, tugging at her skirt. She didn’t _care_ if it made her look like a child. She _was_ one, and she felt every year between her and Master Kenobi now. 

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan said gently, a small frown etched upon his face. “I hope you don’t think this too harsh, but–you are..incredibly misinformed.”

Ahsoka’s stomach lurched in discomfort. Here came the reprimand.

“Anakin was only recently knighted. That much is true. But–” He took a deep breath. “It has never been a priority of mine to be _rid_ of a padawan. Teaching is one of...my greatest passions. In fact,” –he shifted a bit– “I had been under the impression that you were going to be _my_ padawan. And I’d been rather looking forward to it.”

Ahsoka reeled back. “Your…?”

He nodded with a small smile. “If you recall,” his smile grew, “Anakin wasn’t exactly...thrilled to meet you.”

She snorted derisively, but it came out as more of a sniffle. 

“When Anakin came to the Temple, I was much younger than I am now. Only ten actual years, but so many more _really_ . I was healing from a great loss,” – _Master Jinn_ , Ahsoka remembered – “and didn’t quite know what to do with myself. Taking Anakin on as a padawan immediately was...one of my least rational decisions.” He chuckled softly to himself. “But by far my best.”

Ahsoka watched him silently, not quite sure what her place was in all of this.

“Through Anakin, I discovered joy in places I’d never found it before. Watching him learn and grow–that’s not an experience I would trade.” He turned toward Ahsoka, grimacing a bit as his shoulder rubbed against his own blanket. “So, you see, little one, I hope to spend the rest of my life experiencing that with as many young Jedi as the Force will allow me.”

He stood from the bed and walked back toward the door.

“I will admit, however, that I’m quite enjoying the new joy that has come with watching my padawan flail around with his _own_ student.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he stopped in the doorway. “He’s awake, by the way. Master Che just comm’ed.”

Ahsoka’s head snapped up. “Master Skywalker?!”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I asked to speak with him immediately.” A grin. “He said he wanted to talk to you first.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading/kudosing/commenting/or merely clicking! <3
> 
> scream about Star Wars with me on my [ tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/giggles-and-freckles)!


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